


A Dark Alley and a Bad Idea

by plutonianshores



Category: The Alienist (TV)
Genre: As-Yet-Unrequited John/Laszlo, Asphyxiation, Forced Orgasm, Gunplay, Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-01 14:46:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15145448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plutonianshores/pseuds/plutonianshores
Summary: When John runs into Captain Connor that night, he doesn't escape with just a blackened eye





	A Dark Alley and a Bad Idea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [days4daisy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/days4daisy/gifts).



When Connor cornered him in the alley and punched him in the face, John had expected to wake up in the alley sans billfold, possibly sans trousers, and certainly sans Connor. Coming to with a hand around his throat and another tugging at his waistband wasn't even close to anything he'd imagined.

His head ached, his lungs burned, and he had a sickening feeling that he knew where this was going.

"Good, you're awake. Wouldn't want to miss this." Connor grinned.

John headbutted him in the nose.

By the time he stopped seeing spots, Connor had replaced the hand around his throat with a gun to his head, and pulled his trousers down to his knees. His nose was trickling blood, John noticed with satisfaction.

"Behave yourself now," Connor growled. "Be a shame if I had to shoot you before we got to the fun."

"Fun for whom?"

Connor stroked the barrel of the gun against his face like a lover's hand. "You'll enjoy it, boy, tell me I'm wrong. Now turn around."

John did as he was bidden. He knew exactly what was coming, but God help him, he'd prefer it to a bullet in the head.

Connor forced himself inside of John, and he screamed.

"Don't tell me you've never taken it up the ass before," Connor said, lips wet against John's ear. "I know a fairy when I see one."

"Even if I had, I have better taste than you." Not his wittiest riposte, but John supposed he could be forgiven for that, given the circumstances.

"You wish I was your alienist." Connor had settled into a rhythm now, each thrust drawing a suppressed gasp from John. "You'd let him bend you over anywhere, hmm? Get down on your knees for him, dirty your fine suit."

John didn't want to think about Laszlo. He'd done all too much of that lately; their proximity had rekindled a flame he thought he'd long since snuffed out. John had stopped paying for company—it was nothing but a waste of money when he knew he wouldn't reach completion unless he imagined Laszlo above or beneath or beside him, something he could do just as well when taking himself in hand alone. He shouldn't be thinking of Laszlo this much at all, but John especially didn't want to think of him in conjunction with the hot breath against his neck or the rough thrusts tearing him open.

"He would never," John snapped, breathless.

"Then you ought to thank me." Connor's teeth scraped against John's neck. "I'm only giving you what he won't."

John shut his eyes and leaned his forehead against the cool brick of the alley wall. Surely Connor would finish with him soon.

Connor seemed to take his silence as even more of an affront than his retorts. "Go on then, boy, thank me!"

John's ass burned, and his face ached, and he refused to submit even further to Connor's humiliation. "No."

Connor grabbed him by the hair and slammed his face against the wall. "Tell me how much you're enjoying this, you fucking faggot."

"If this is your idea of pillow talk," John gasped, "then I truly pity your wife. Although perhaps you'd rather have me than her—"

Connor growled, and for a sickening moment, John feared he would pull the trigger. Instead, he clamped a hand over John's face, covering his nose and mouth.

"Shut the fuck up and take it." It seemed John had hit a nerve, but it was difficult to enjoy the victory while desperately trying to suck air in around Connor's palm.

"Not so cocky now, are you?"

John's lungs burned, and his vision began to swim. His world narrowed to the cold metal against his temple and the irregular rhythm of Connor inside him. Oh God, please, please don't let him die like this…

Connor spent inside him with a shout, and released his grip on John's mouth. John gasped, only kept from falling by the brick wall in front of him and Connor behind him.

Connor traced the gun down John's side, coming to a halt with it leveled at his cock.

John froze.

"A poor partner I'd be if I didn't make sure you enjoyed yourself." Connor nudged at his balls with the barrel. "Go on, then. Touch yourself."

Choking back a sob, John took himself in hand. Once he began to stroke himself, Connor moved the gun away, but before John could feel relief, he felt a cold, blunt pressure against his asshole.

"I know a man like you can't enjoy himself without something inside him, but don't worry. I'll help you with that."

Even slick as he was with Connor's spend, John still screamed as Connor forced the barrel of the gun into him. It was cold, hard, and unyielding, and if he'd thought Connor's prick would tear him apart, this certainly would.

"Keep your hand moving." Connor punctuated his words with thrusts of the gun. "This won't finish until you do."

John closed his eyes and (God forgive him) thought of Laszlo. They had been investigating the darker parts of the city, he told himself, and finally, finally, John had not been able to contain his longing. He had kissed Laszlo, pressing him against the wall of a secluded alleyway, and Laszlo had spun them around and set himself to undressing John. It was not unyielding steel inside John, but Laszlo's fingers, or his cock. The pace of his strokes sped up, and he began to leak on himself.

The gun hit the part of him that he had only sought out alone at night, and he moaned.

"That's it, then," Connor said, but John ignored him. He brushed a thumb over his slit, imagining it was Laszlo's hand rather than his own that did so. Between the pressure of the gun on his prostate and how long it had been since he'd had time for this, he spent shamefully quickly.

"There you go." Connor gave the gun one last thrust, then drew it out, leaving John feeling empty and sore. "You remember this, next time you come sniffing around. I can do for you again, rich boy." He wiped his gun on the tails of John's shirt, and John shuddered at the touch.

John squeezed his eyes shut and waited to hear Connor walk away. He'd be damned if he let the man see him cry. Once the footsteps faded, he hitched up his trousers, wincing at the pain of bending over. Then he set off for the nearest street, nearly crying with each step. Soon he would be home, he told himself, and he could clean off and drink himself into oblivion. How he'd look at Laszlo tomorrow, he didn't know, but he could deal with that in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from a Fall Out Boy song, because I couldn't resist.


End file.
